At the end of the Joseon dynasty, our ancestors had to watch their own land become someone else’s battlefield.

I never really tried to imagine what that must have felt like. It’s history, after all, and empathizing with the past isn’t exactly a hobby of mine.

They say “putting yourself in another’s shoes” is a virtue. It’s also a basic principle when drawing up strategies and tactics.

But most cases of “putting yourself in another’s shoes” only happen when you’re forced into that position.

A criminal who beats, kills, and rapes people weaker than him won’t spare a thought for others’ perspectives until he’s caught by the police. He might only find that perspective when writing a statement of remorse before a judge, or when a prison chaplain visits and he sheds a few tears of regret.

I came to understand my ancestors’ anguish in a similar way—by being forced into it.

What I mean is, my neighborhood became a battlefield.

*

Our hero and king, that bastard Jeon Si-hoon, didn’t halt his attack on Sejong out of mercy, contrary to what people believed. He did it to prepare for an even bigger war.

From what could be pieced together through the board, Necropolis, and radio chatter, Jeon Si-hoon realized during the initial clash that Sejong was weaker than expected, and so began preparing for a full-scale invasion.

That short, deceptive lull of peace gave me just enough time to pay Sejong a brief visit. Even then, I’d already caught signs of war.

The moment I was putting a sniper down, Jeon Si-hoon redeployed his kill teams across Sejong.

I was lucky.

The place I’d gone with Park Ha-eun was an outlying region, away from Sejong’s trade routes.

That’s why monsters were still around, but it also meant fewer kill teams had been deployed there.

Even after I dropped the sniper and shot down their drone, they sent a few more into the area—but I’d already abandoned the roads, cutting across a shallow plain instead.

I knew drone pilots prioritized searching along the roads, so I altered my path on the spot.

Another reason I could take such a risky route was because my bunker was close to Sejong.

If you avoid the main roads, travel takes much longer and the terrain is harsher, and for the unprepared, that extra time is a matter of life and death.

Especially in the infamously brutal Korean winter. The longer an operation drags out, the higher your odds of dying.

I made it back safely, and contrary to my worries, Mark Two hadn’t caused any trouble. The day ended well enough.

The problem came after.

Screeeeeeeech—

From above came a sound I hadn’t heard in ages: the roar of jet engines.

Back when the Republic of Korea government bounced its capital back and forth between Seoul and Jeju like some medieval military junta, the one arm of power they never gave up was the Air Force.

They’d abandoned many aircraft, but they still operated a handful of fighters.

I don’t know much about planes, but those interested in the field say the ROKAF mainly relies on the single-engine F-16, sometimes supplementing with the domestically built next-gen fighters when they can.

The F-16s stayed in service for so long because there were plenty of resources to keep them maintained.

Every part of an aircraft is expendable. With cars, a worn-out part might leave you stranded on the roadside. With an aircraft, it kills the pilot nine times out of ten.

Pilots have always been precious, but in a postwar world, they’re practically sacred.

People had been saying that without the Jeju base, the Air Force was finished. Looks like everyone underestimated the ROK government.

The Air Force launched precision strikes on Sejong’s positions and command centers, cutting their strength significantly.

But Sejong wasn’t about to surrender.

Three days after the bombing, Jeon Si-hoon’s army began its advance on Sejong.

You couldn’t not notice it—even if you had no interest in war.

Across the fields that cut through our territory came a column of vehicles and soldiers.

Over fifty armored vehicles, more than two thousand troops.

This was an ambush.

It hadn’t even been half a day since reports of back-and-forth skirmishes along the northern highways, and already Jeon Si-hoon was committing a force this size in a major offensive.

This couldn’t be ignored.

If left alone, Sejong could fall in a single strike.

And Sejong—Sejong is IAmJesus’s city.

It’s the city of those abandoned by the government, who stood up on their own. And more than anything, it’s my friend King’s city.

SKELTON: A large military force just passed through my territory.

I didn’t use the radio. In a way, that’s my own limitation.

Even knowing IAmJesus might not be able to check the board, I still used the board’s message function to deliver the warning.

I had no choice.

The enemy is an army.

Almost every frequency risks interception.

Even the K-WalkieTalkie’s decryption function isn’t safe from military-grade equipment.

If the army of butchers raised by Defender discovered my signal, they’d scour this area clean. I’d be next.

And my death wouldn’t be pretty.

But I wasn’t alone anymore.

I had the child Woo Min-hee left in my care.

So despite my hesitation, I sent the warning only through the board.

Message from IAmJesus: Thanks!

The reply came a full day after I’d sent the emergency alert.

No news surfaced, but all night long gunfire and artillery echoed from the southeast.

By dawn, the engines of fighter jets roared overhead.

To cut it short—

Message from IAmJesus: Thanks to you, we stopped the attack!

Message from IAmJesus: [Attachment]

The photo he sent showed a more mature-looking IAmJesus beside an unknown zombie making a Korean-style finger heart.

Typical of his way of saying thanks.

In any case, the immediate danger was over.

Jeon Si-hoon’s brilliant feint and diversion plan had been foiled.

I thought maybe that would end the war.

Not a chance.

*

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Now, every day begins with gunfire.

Bang!

In truth, the shots never stop.

They don’t keep me awake—too distant for that—but they do serve as a reminder.

That my territory, my bunker’s surroundings, are a battlefield now.

Sejong, after being pummeled helplessly by Jeon Si-hoon’s first blows, quickly proved why even the ROK government treats them warily.

Volunteer soldiers, loyalists determined to defend Sejong, and ex-warlord troops the government would never forgive, all united under one banner after King’s death splintered them. Their sole purpose: stop Jeon Si-hoon.

Their momentum was no joke.

The kill teams that once roamed Sejong’s main roads murdering civilians were hunted down by ex-special forces.

The armored units that brazenly rolled past my territory toward Sejong fell into a string of ambushes and raids, suffering heavy losses and pulling back.

Jeon Si-hoon’s air power is still a threat, but the real weapon of Sejong is its people’s resolve.

Not one of them yielded to the [N O V E L I G H T] government.

And thus the war began.

War isn’t like the movies.

That scene of thousands charging in unison and seizing a dramatic victory? That’s just one fleeting moment.

The shape of war is simple:

Endless, yawning boredom. Idle standoffs. Then, suddenly, a battle of fate—inescapable, unstoppable, lethal—and it’s over.

Skirmishes erupted on every route leading into Sejong and Seoul.

The battles mirrored Jeon Si-hoon’s early harassment of Sejong: kill teams spreading death nets, each mistake ending in certain death.

For me, this was far from welcome.

Message from defender: I’m really sorry.

Message from defender: I can’t send you supplies. The area’s too hot. Just poking around and drones are up.

Message from defender: Once things calm down, I’ll ask Dies_Irae and somehow get you what you need.

Supplies were scarce.

Food especially was flashing red.

To be precise—there was enough preserved food to keep me alive. But no fresh, daily rations.

I could survive on preserved food alone. If I were alone.

But I wasn’t.

The child didn’t complain, stayed quiet and patient, but still—he’s a child.

As Instructor Jang Ki-young would say, “unripe and therefore not hardened.”

The fuel situation was dire too.

To run the generator, I had no choice but to refine my degraded oil. Refining meant working outside.

And going outside now was risking your life.

This apocalypse-style war has no clear front lines. Small kill teams crisscross, each out for blood. So the army won’t set up large camps in my territory.

But unlike before, the skies are thick with drones.

Once, I even saw them use fiber-optic cables to fly kites for reconnaissance.

Because my land was now officially a battlefield, our every movement was observed.

Even at night we couldn’t relax.

Unlike civilian drones, military drones come standard with night sensors.

A careless stroll outside, and soon enough I’d be staring at troops gathered at my bunker’s door.

Unfortunately, my territory lay under Jeon Si-hoon’s control.

Sejong was fighting valiantly, blocking Seoul’s advance, but from the start, Seoul held the initiative. That wasn’t going to change.

Seoul simply had more men and more machines.

Legitimacy didn’t matter.

The media swaying the masses? That was all Jeon Si-hoon’s.

Bang!

Gunfire crackled intermittently.

Maybe even now drones were circling above, dripping hostile intent.

Supplies left: two weeks.

Amid silence, stillness, and scattered gunfire, a week slipped by.

*

“You said it’s a war, right?”

Mark Two, who rarely spoke first, did this time.

I thought I knew why.

Despite her muted emotions, one thing she liked was walks.

She never showed it the way I do, but she enjoyed breathing outside air.

Even in barren surroundings, for someone who’d been locked indoors her whole life, “outside” itself was special.

That’s why, the day I’d gone to Sejong, she’d sneaked out for a walk.

But ever since our territory became a battlefield, we hardly left.

Apart from my brief outings for observation, Mark Two hadn’t stepped outside once.

“This war feels different from the ones I saw on the tablet.”

She must have really wanted to go out. Otherwise she wouldn’t have said that.

I thought for a moment.

The old me wouldn’t have allowed it.

I’d have kept us buried until safety was absolute.

“Yeah.”

My answer was different now—not just because my personality had shifted, but maybe because life’s will didn’t burn as fiercely as before.

I realized it after this last move.

There’s an emptiness.

I once thought I could live alone. And I did, for a time. But being with people I cared about taught me: in the end, humans need other humans.

The stagnant Necropolis synchronization had already blurred my purpose in coming here.

Maybe that’s why I allowed it so easily.

“How about we step outside tonight, just for a little while?”

The child who resembled Woo Min-hee’s eyes lit up.

Not quite a smile, but this was the most joy I’d seen from him.

He probably hadn’t expected me to say yes.

Even so, I wasn’t about to be careless.

Before dusk, I slipped out through a decoy bunker and scouted the area.

Gunfire from the northwest mountains.

That was where the old folks had lived. Were they still alive?

The sun was already sinking westward. I relied on the last glow to scan the sky.

No drones in sight.

Not even through my sensors.

Seemed they weren’t flying any right now.

Still, the gunfire didn’t stop.

When the last light vanished, night fell.

The promised hour.

Minus five degrees Celsius. With wind, bitter cold. Yet Mark Two’s steps were almost weightless.

“Why are the steps here all uneven?”

“They have their reasons. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“What if I don’t make it to ‘older’?”

“That kind of weak thinking just brings death faster.”

“Really?”

“The mind is stronger than the body. Will is stronger than the mind. And stronger than will is grit.”

“?”

I don’t know why I was repeating Instructor Jang Ki-young’s words to this kid. Maybe a student is always a student.

We climbed the crooked stairs and stepped outside.

Pitch-black wilderness greeted us.

We strolled the patrol path—really the route to the outpost.

“Do you farm here too? I saw signs of it.”

“Used to.”

“Right? We planted lettuce once. But one weird kid pooped in the patch and we never did it again.”

Kids always love poop stories. Looks like Woo Min-hee’s kid is no exception.

I listened with a faint smile. Rarely did he chatter so cheerfully.

The promised ten minutes passed quickly.

Ten minutes isn’t a strict limit, but in a battlefield, it’s already pushing it.

Yet even after, I said nothing.

I just let Mark Two walk and talk.

“That one.”

She pointed at the sky.

“What star is that?”

“That’s not a star.”

Below Orion’s belt—an arrow forever drawn, even at humanity’s end—a “star” sped across the night.

“Then what is it?”

“A satellite.”

“A satellite?”

“A star humans made, you could say.”

“A star humans made...”

She chewed on the words, then gave a strange, wistful smile.

“Like me, then.”

In her eyes, I saw the sadness of fate.

I spoke quickly.

“Woo was the one who gave birth to you. Nothing artificial about that.”

“I heard someone else birthed me.”

“That’s still natural.”

“Huh?”

Bang!

Gunfire cracked.

Usually that sound sharpens the nerves. This time, I interpreted it differently.

I looked at Woo Min-hee’s child, still staring at me, full of doubt.

“See? Even that friend agrees with me. And besides...”

I looked back up at the star still speeding across the sky.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Because it was moving fast...”

“There are countless stars above us. But the one you liked, the one you chose—that one’s yours.”

For all my fumbling, those words hit home.

The child who’d been pouting fell silent, eyes sparkling, tracing the star he’d chosen until it vanished.

We watched together, under the same sky.

The air was sharp and cold. Gunfire echoed. Fear of being spotted lingered.

But so what?

I drew in the winter air deep.

Felt lighter, body and soul.

“Woo once said something,” Mark Two murmured.

“What?”

“That she didn’t think she could be a good mother. That she’d never match Kim Daram.”

“If Kim Daram heard that, she’d ascend to heaven on the spot.”

“What’s ‘ascend’?”

“Uh... means fly up into the sky.”

I’ll have to step outside more often.

Bang!

War or not, life has to be lived.

And besides...

I was starting to feel hungry.

“...”

Lately, hunger seemed to come faster.

But for now, I pushed the thought aside.